


Jester and the Great Pastry Caper

by Callii



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Jester's POV, Pastries, the gang does a crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 08:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13854039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callii/pseuds/Callii
Summary: The pastry shop is closed. That does not stop Jester.





	Jester and the Great Pastry Caper

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as something really silly and then took me eight hours and at some point during that time it sort of changed.
> 
> Enjoy!

It takes kind of a lot to bring Jester down— not to brag or anything, but she is pretty good! Giant snake? She’s on top of it (well, not literally, although riding a giant snake would be the _coolest shit ever_ , she’d have to remember that one for her journal later). Evil demon frog? Got that one well in hand (this time literally, what with his chopped-off head and all). Gnolls? Manticores? She’s perfectly fine, totally got this, everything’s cool.

But this?

Jester slumps against the door, waving her hand a little to shake off the cramps she’s started getting from her war with the doorknob. “It just will not open!” she exclaims to Beau, who has been watching her struggle for the past hour (which is really probably closer to eight minutes, but it _feels_ like an hour, so there). “No matter how hard I pull, it just does not work!” 

“Jester, the sign says the place is closed,” Beau says, pointing to a sign stuck to the window. “You’re not gonna get your pastries today.”

Shoving herself up, Jester twists to read the sign. “The Cookie Jar is closed… we apologize for the inconvenience… will reopen Miresen— Miresen?! But that is too far away! How do I wait that long? I am plenty sweet, but I am not sweet enough to sustain myself for that many days!” 

Beau raises an eyebrow. “It’s only, like, four days.”

Beau, Jester decides, is not very helpful. She gives a high-pitched whine and slumps back against the door, resigned to her fate.

“We should probably, uh, get back to everyone else,” says Beau, picking Jester up and beginning to half-drag her toward the dingy little inn where the group was staying. “You can get your pastries another day.”

“Pastries…” Jester moans, visions of cupcakes and cookies and donuts, oh beautiful, delicious donuts, dancing in her mind. Perfectly glazed and shining like jewels, or lightly dusted with powdered sugar like snow on a really tasty mountain, or, best of all, filled with delicious jelly. Strawberry, raspberry, blackberry, or blueberry (her favorite)— it’s like a surprise gift when she bites into a donut and discovers the jelly inside. And all that… lost forever… 

“We’re here,” Beau announces abruptly, and dumps Jester onto a barstool. When exactly they’d gotten inside, Jester has no idea, but she’s very grateful for the sudden solid surface of the bar in front of her. She drops her head onto it, ignoring the smell of old alcohol, and groans in despair. “Oh come on,” says Beau, who is still standing there watching her for some reason Jester can’t understand. “I didn’t drag you all the way back here just so you could do this sulking shit. Have a drink, you’ll probably feel better. Or worse. Guess you’ll find out which one.” 

Jester sees Beau plunk a tankard on the bar next to her head. Lifting her head up, she grabs it and sniffs— it smells strong and not like a donut at all. Jester waves it in a weak toasting motion, then takes several large gulps. It burns a little and is definitely nothing like a donut, but she gives Beau a thumbs up anyway.

“Well,” Beau tells her, “have fun with that. I’ll be over there. Drinking. Yeah.” She crosses the room and takes a seat by Yasha, who also holds a tankard, as well as Molly, who scoffs a bit but lets Beau sit without comment.

Jester watches her go, then returns to her drink.

———

A few some-amounts-of-time later— how long has it been, even?— the world is nice and fuzzy and Jester already feels way better. She also feels some relief in recounting her horrible experience (with some dramatic license) to a rapt audience consisting of Nott. 

“...and the door was _locked tight_!” she exclaims, gesturing with the hand not holding her drink.

“No!” Nott gasps. “How could that be?”

“I do not know,” says Jester, “but I know that it is truly horrible. I do not think my world will ever be right again!” Is it raining, or is that just tears? She sniffles— well, that answers that— and takes another swig of ale.

“And what did you do?” asks Nott, who looks almost like she is going to fall off her stool.

“What _could_ I do?” Jester cries. “The door was locked, the pastries were out of my reach forever!”

Nott starts to tear up too. “We have to find a way to fix it!” she says.

“Yeah!” Jester stands up off her stool and nearly topples over, though she doesn’t drop her mug. “But how do we do it? Wait, wait, I know! You ask Caleb if we can use Frumpkin to—”

“No,” Caleb calls flatly from where he is reading at a corner table, and Jester startles.

“How did you know what I was going to ask? Can you read minds like Molly? What am I thinking right now?”

“I can hear you,” he tells her. “You are so loud that I think everybody in this inn can as well.”

“Sorry!” she whispers. At least, she tries to whisper it, but it seems to come out as loud as everything else she’s been saying. She drops back into her seat. “Okay, so we cannot use Frumpkin. What do we do?” Where did her mug go? She could swear it was in her hand a second ago, but she just seems to be waving her hand in her face and not actually drinking anything.

“Right now, what we should be doing is heading to bed,” says someone from behind her, and she whips around to see Fjord on another barstool.

“ _Holy shit_ , how long have you been able to use teleporting magic?” she gasps.

He looks kind of confused, and Jester giggles at his expression. Then she spots what he’s holding in his hand, and she gasps again— even more loudly and dramatically. “You found my tankard!” She makes a grab at it, and nearly overbalances when it moves out of the way. “Fjord, the tankard is running away from me!”

“No, look, Jester, I think it’s time to stop drinking for tonight.”

Her eyes widen. “But— but why?”

“Look, I’ve never been one to tell someone else not to drink,” he tells her, “but I think you don’t want too much of a hangover tomorrow morning. It’d make fetching pastries a little harder, wouldn’t it?”

“You mean— you will help us?” Jester blurts out, feeling hope rise in her stomach.

Fjord grins. “Of course,” he says. “You need your donuts, and who’m I to keep you from them?”

“Yay!” She shoots to her feet, throws her arms around him, and squeezes as tightly as she can. “Thank you so much!”

“Of course,” he repeats, wheezing a little. “Could ya maybe loosen up your grip a bit?”

She lets go of him and clumsily pats his shoulder in apology, then staggers to the stairs. “Good night!” she yells at the bar as a whole. To herself, she whispers, “Do not worry, sweet donuts. I will be there soon.”

———

The next morning, Jester wakes up to a cup of water by her bedside and, thank the Traveler, no hangover. (She assumes it was the Traveler, at least. Hopefully he is enjoying the pastry hunt.) Beau’s bed is empty— Jester isn’t sure if her roommate ever actually got back to the room last night. Maybe she should be worried about that.

She drinks the water and takes the cup downstairs, where she can see some of her friends having breakfast. Molly sits at the table by the door, and Nott and Fjord are together at a corner table. When she’s sure the innkeeper isn’t watching, Jester abandons the cup on a nearby table and goes to join Fjord and Nott.

“So what is the plan?” she asks, coming up from behind Nott. “And do we get codenames?”

Nott swallows a sausage and looks up. “Why do we need codenames?”

“Because they are fun!” Jester says, enthused. “I want to be… Blueberry. Or Lollipop. Blueberry Lollipop!”

“I like it!” Nott grins and eats another sausage. “Can I still call you Jester, though?”

Jester plops down and snags a piece of bacon off of Fjord’s plate. “Good idea! It might get confusing otherwise.”

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Fjord begins, handing Jester another piece of bacon when she moves to steal it. “We’re gonna go to the bakery, scout it out, make sure nobody is actually in there. If they catch us, they’ll probably ban us. Then we’re gonna find out why the place is closed.”

“What if it’s closed because someone stole all the treats?” asks Nott, eyes wide.

Jester gasps. “Who would do that?”

Nott tilts her head, birdlike, as she thinks. “I mean, you probably would.”

That is a good point, Jester thinks, but if it were true then this whole situation would never have happened. “I would not steal from _myself_ ,” Jester points out. “That would just be awful!”

“I don’t think someone would steal all the pastries,” says Fjord calmly, “but if they did, I’m sure we could steal them back. We’re pretty good at that, right?” He ruffles Jester’s and Nott’s hair. “Now— we’re gonna go scout out that bakery.”

Jester stands up. “Onward, to donuts!” she cheers, prancing to the door. 

From his table nearby, Molly raises a hand. “Bring me back some cream puffs, would you?” he requests. “And maybe some of those little filled crescent pastries— rugelach, that’s it. I know Caleb likes those.”

“Sure,” she says. 

“Wonderful, thanks.”

She gives him a thumbs up as she bounces out the door. Fjord and Nott follow her out, and the three of them stand outside the inn in the cool morning air.

“Onward, to donuts?” Nott says, sounding unsure but excited, and Jester beams.

———

The bakery is small and pretty cute, nestled between taller buildings. Its door is painted a light turquoise, the words “The Cookie Jar” are painted across the window, and on display are cakes and stacks of cookies. Jester stands outside, face almost pressed against the window, scanning the inside for any clues.

“Are we going in yet?” asks Nott. “I got the lock open already while you weren’t looking.”

“You are so good at this,” Jester tells her, and she grins with all her teeth. 

“Let me go in first,” Fjord says, and Jester moves aside. He opens the door, ignoring the little bell that dings as he does, and looks around, then waves Jester and Nott forward. “Alright, looks pretty empty.”

Jester rushes in and almost dives behind the counter, hoping to find a secret trapdoor that would lead her to sugary goodness. Unfortunately, all she finds is a lot of dust, some crumbs, and a copper piece. She pockets the copper and stands back up. “You guys find anything?”

“There are the cookies in the window!” Nott tells her, already munching down on one.

“We cannot just steal the _displays_ , though,” says Jester.

Nott shrugs. “Don’t see why not.” She finishes her cookie and grabs another one, prying it off the stack from where someone glued it down.

“There’s got to be better sweets in here than stale display cookies,” Fjord speaks up from the other side of the bakery. “If I could find— there we go, the door to the kitchen. Nott? Want to do the honors?”

Licking cookie crumbs off her lips, Nott pulls out her lockpicks again, and the door opens quietly. A rising sort of anticipation fills Jester as she looks over Nott’s head into the kitchen. Inside, she hopes, her lovely pastries await. She squeezes past Nott and Fjord to be the first one through the door and down the stairs.

The kitchen looks, well, like a kitchen that has not been used in a couple of days. One of the walls has a large oven, a table sits in the middle of the room, and a lot of baking implements hang from or rest on shelves, but Jester ignores all of that as soon as she sees the big iceboxes along the back wall. 

She runs over to one of them and throws the door open, then lets out a cheer. “Jackpot!” A large chunk of ice rests on the bottom shelf, but above that are rows and rows of beautiful pastries. Glistening cream puffs, apple cinnamon rolls with glaze drizzled across the top, muffins of every kind, rugelach packed with marzipan or fruit, and best of all— perfect, wonderful donuts. Jester breathes in the smell of pastries, and it feels like coming home. 

Nott, having followed her in, opens another icebox and starts taking pastries out. Several go directly into her mouth, others into whatever pockets and pouches she is hiding in her cloak. Fjord, meanwhile, seems to realize that he has no good place to actually carry anything and just grabs a handful of apple cinnamon rolls and rugelach. 

Jester takes her cloak off and uses it as a makeshift bag, tossing as many donuts and cream puffs into the center as she can fit. “Quick, quick, get as many as you can! We have to get them back to the inn before someone notices we are not supposed to be here.”

And as if on cue, Jester hears a doorknob turn, a bell ding, and footsteps on the bakery floor as someone walks in.

“Shit,” Fjord hisses. 

“Hello?” the person upstairs calls. They sound like a teenager— she could probably take them, Jester thinks, if it comes down to a fight. “Is— is someone in here? Did this place get robbed? Oh, hell, if any of the equipment is damaged or stolen while they’re away…”

Jester glances at Fjord, who has already done the cool disguise thing and now looks like a completely different person. “What do we do?” she whispers to him.

“I’ll run for it,” he whispers back. “You and Nott go when it’s clear.”

“You can’t play distraction! It’s too dangerous!”

Fjord smiles at her. “I appreciate the concern, darlin’, but I think I’ll be fine.” He glances at the stairs, where the teenager is still talking to themself as they check to make sure nothing got stolen.

As Jester frantically tries to come up with a better plan (and stuffs a few more donuts into her cloak), the person finally seems to notice the open kitchen door. “Hey!” they call down. “Seriously, is someone—”

Before they can finish their sentence, Fjord is off, and Jester grabs Nott’s hand as she hears the person above yell in surprise and then in anger. The bell dings as Fjord runs outside with his hands full of pastries, and the person runs after him.

“Is it safe to go out?” Nott asks in a whisper. 

“I think so.” Still holding Nott’s hand, Jester dashes up the stairs and out of the bakery, heart beating wildly. “We have to go!”

She hears more shouting up ahead, sees Fjord being chased by a (fortunately pretty slow) lanky human teenager, and a vague and probably terrible plan forms in her mind. If the person sees _another_ pastry thief, they won’t know which one to chase— and then, while they’re confused, she, Fjord, and Nott can escape!

Jester drops Nott’s hand and runs directly at the commotion, hollering and waving, and the teenager looks up just as she practically barrels into them. 

She runs right past them, and she can hear their footfalls as they, apparently realizing that her cloak-turned-bag must contain a lot more pastries than Fjord’s hands, start to chase her instead. She dashes down the street, pursued by teen. 

The teenager, getting close, makes a grab for her bag, and she yanks it out of their reach. " _My_ pastries!” she shrieks.

“They’re not!”

“They are _now_!” She sticks her tongue out at them over her shoulder, just as they lunge and manage to grab onto the edge of the bag.

Jester is pretty strong, but the teenager had managed to get a good handhold, and they pull back just as she tries to wrench away— 

The cloak unfolds from its bag shape, and the pastries spill out onto the dirty cobblestones. The teenager immediately lets go and scrambles to pick up as many as they can, and Jester goes to save a donut but Fjord grabs her hand and pulls her away and they’re running, running— 

They duck into an alley and Nott finds them and Jester grasps her hand and holds onto Fjord’s even tighter and the alley opens up into a narrow street that Jester doesn’t really recognize but they keep going, finding another alley and another and another— and they’re back at the inn.

They spill through the door, Fjord pulling it shut behind them, and collectively slump against the wall. The innkeeper gives them a look, but Jester ignores him and leans her head back, closing her eyes. She’s still clutching her friends’ hands in a death grip, but neither of them seem to be complaining, though maybe that’s because they are just too out of breath to say anything.

“Well, it certainly seems like _you’ve_ had an adventure.”

Jester cracks an eye open to look at Molly, who apparently has not moved from his seat. “Yep,” she tells him. “But we did not get caught, so it all ended just fine.” She detaches her hand from Fjord’s and gives Molly a weak thumbs up.

“Did you get my cream puffs?” Molly asks.

She groans, lifting the pastryless cloak and dropping it over her face. “I tried to.”

“I got cream puffs!” Nott pipes up, letting go of Jester’s hand to, presumably, reach into a pouch for a puff. 

There’s a rustling, then a voice that’s decidedly _not_ Molly saying, “Did you go back to the pastry shop to do a crime?”

Jester paws the cloth off her face and stares at Beau. “Yes.”

Beau looks back at her for a moment, then shrugs. “Cool. Hey, Nott, can I get one of those?”

“Here you go!”

“I am going upstairs,” Jester announces to everybody and nobody. She does not look to see if anyone notices.

———

Jester hears a quiet knock on her door, and lifts her head up from where it has been buried in her pillow for the past who-even-knows-how-long. Shoving herself off the bed, she opens the door to see Nott, hands clasped together and looking a little nervous.

“Hi!” Jester says, too brightly. “Did you need something?”

Nott clears her throat. “I just wanted to say thanks for taking me with you on your pastry adventure. It was a lot of fun, and the treats are really really good. So… thanks.”

Jester blinks, startled. “Oh! I— thanks for agreeing to come along! We definitely could not have done it without you. And you are the one who got most of the pastries back here, so yeah! It was—” She pauses. “It was fun, even though I did not get any donuts.”

Nott beams at her. “You should come back down,” she tells her, and Jester nods.

The two of them walk down the stairs into the inn’s dining room. Beau, Yasha, and Molly sit together; Molly seems to have taken hold of all the cream puffs, but every so often he pretends not to notice when Yasha snags one and gives it to Beau. Meanwhile, Fjord sits at a table next to the corner where Caleb has yet again tucked himself, eating an apple cinnamon roll and occasionally getting drawn into whatever conversation Molly, Beau, and Yasha are having. Caleb, for his part, looks pretty happy to be in his corner reading, a plate of rugelach and cream puffs set in front of him.

Nott leads Jester to Fjord’s table, and Fjord grins at her when she sits down. Beau twists around in her seat to show off the cream puff Yasha’s just handed her, and says, “Thanks for these, man.” Yasha nods at Jester and smiles, as do Molly and Caleb. Jester smiles back, feeling weirdly warm and even happier than she had felt discovering the pastries in the icebox in the first place.

A tap on her arm draws Jester’s attention back to Nott, whose hands are still clasped together. “I only got you the one,” she starts, “since I knew you were getting a bunch of them and I wanted to get some other stuff, but I still have this one, and it’s for you.”

Jester puts a hand to her mouth. “Nott, did you…”

Grinning widely, Nott opens her hands to reveal a single, perfect jelly donut. She hands it to Jester, who starts to cry tears of happiness. “It’s blueberry,” Nott tells Jester. “I know that’s your favorite.”

Through her tears, Jester chokes out, “You are the actual best.”

“So are you!” says Nott, who also looks like she is beginning to tear up.

“Then we can be the best together,” says Jester. With that, she brings the donut to her mouth and takes a bite.

It tastes like home.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure when the emotions happened, but maybe I will do more serious Jester character studies when I am not writing a fanfiction about pastry stealing.
> 
> On another note, writing this made me hungry for pastries.


End file.
